Flashback
by sephiesport
Summary: My sort-of-respone to gethsemane's 24 word challenge. My first attempt at drabbles... Basically a series of short memories from Gale's life, in Gale's POV. Reviews would be appreciated!
1. Chapter 1: Home

_N/A: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed my story, Guilty. The reviews got me thinking that maybe I _could_ do another Gale story… and this is the result. Enjoy!_

**Home**

I am thirteen years old, and I am sitting at my kitchen table, doing my homework.

All I want is for my dad to come home from work so I can show him what I've been learning. He always talks with me, and we have a great conversation, every day. I talk about school. He talks about life in the mines. It's a fair trade. His life is so much more exciting than mine.

My mother comes in and looks at me, reading a chapter on the history of the Games. She shakes her head and sighs a little.

"Gale, sweetie, what are you doing?"

"My homework," I respond. I'm reading about the Second Quarter Quell right now. It's kind of boring.

In school, we've been talking about the Hunger Games and their cause. I don't really understand what they are, and if I'm being honest, I don't really care. If I was asked, I would have said the Games were just some really good TV programming. Who cares about rebellion or punishment or government? Frankly, the Games were only worth watching because of the fighting.

My mother murmurs to herself, and I think she says something like "I wish they wouldn't indoctrinate the children."

I decide that can't be what she said. It doesn't make any sense. What does _indoctrinate_ even mean?

She continues stirring the soup, then stops, a strange expression on her face. Her hand flies to her belly, which is round and large. My mom smiles when she sees me looking at her, concerned. Is she okay? I remember when Vick was born, and she was constantly in pain because of him. I don't want her to be hurt. Dad said I have to keep a close eye on Mom. The baby's due any day.

"She's just exercising a little," she explains. I'm not certain I believe her, but I nod.

"All right. But if you think anything bad's gonna happen…" I trail off, and she just shakes her head.

"Stop being such a worrywart." She teases. "Honestly, I'll be fine. I promise."

I'm going to have another sibling soon, and I'm excited. I hope it's a sister, and my mom does too. Dad says he doesn't care. Any kid is the perfect kid for him.

We stay there in silence for a few moments, and then a screech comes from my little brother, Rory.

"Mo-om! Vick hitted me!"

My mother sighs, then turns to me.

"Gale, can you stay here and stir the soup? We want dinner to be ready when Daddy gets home, now don't we?"

I nod and get up, grabbing the wooden spoon from her as she runs to check on my brothers.

The delicious aroma of cooking rabbit fills the house, and I can't help but smile.

My dad hunts for our food. It's illegal, but he does it anyways. He always says it's to feed not only us, but everyone that can't feed themselves. That sometimes it's okay to break the law, when more good than harm will come of it.

I don't need an explanation. The fact that he gives away the food that he finds has never worried me. It's turned him into a sort of Robin Hood, like the character in the stories my dad always tells me. He steals from the rich, and gives to the poor. My dad is a hero, not just to me, but to everyone he helps. I know that when I grow up, I want to hunt with my father. Who wouldn't want to be a hero?

I am still stirring the dinner when someone knocks on the door.

"Can you get that?" my mother calls.

"Yeah!"

I go over to the door and open it, looking out of my house into the cold night air.

There's a woman there, someone I feel like I should recognize but I can't quite put a name with her face.

Her eyes are red and puffy, like she was recently crying, and her blonde hair is a mess. Automatically I wonder what's wrong, and why she is at my house. We don't get many visitors here.

"Can I help you?" I ask haltingly, not sure if I should invite her in or not.

The woman nods, and asks weakly, "Is Hazelle here? I need-" her voice cracks and she cuts off. I decide she is probably not going to finish her question, so instead I simply call for my mother.

"Mom! It's for you!"

My mom appears from around the hall, holding Rory in her arms.

"Who is-" The smile disappears from her face and she halts, a look of terror in place of the cheerful expression.

"Gale, go take Rory back to his room. Make him apologize to Vick, then don't come out until I call for you."

I know a dismissal when I hear one, and I also know I have to find out what's going on. I don't say anything, but take Rory from my mother's arms and head back to the other end of the house. My mother and the woman don't speak with each other while I am in the room, both of them seeming to agree that I shouldn't be let in on whatever secret she has come to tell.

I am a little irked by this, but I walk to the room that I share with my two brothers obediently.

Vick is sitting on his bed, mournfully, his curly brown hair sticking up in every possible direction. I set Rory down.

He automatically begins arguing with Vick and I turn to them, furious.

"You two- just be quiet, ok? I'm trying to listen!"

"Listen to what?" Vick asks.

"I don't _know_ yet, that's what I'm trying to find out," I explain impatiently. "You two stay here, and be quiet. I'll be right back."

I open the door silently and sneak out of the room, walking down the hall just a little so I can hear what my mother is saying. Her voice sounds funny, as if she has been crying. This doesn't make any sense, though. Nothing bad has happened, and as far as I know, nothing good has happened either. I scootch closer.

"But, how are we supposed to take care of our families?" she whispers.

The other woman doesn't respond for a moment, then says quietly, "I don't know. My medicines won't be able to take care of us for very long. I can't support Katniss and Prim with them. We were barely making enough to get by, before."

There is another long moment of silence, and then the woman continues weakly.

"I heard that they're going to give out medals to us."

"Medals?" My mom sounds angry and offended, and I've never heard her speak in this tone of voice. "Medals are for when you've done something honorable. Where's the honor in having your husband-" She pauses, breathes in loudly, and then breaks down in sobs. "I knew something would happen in the mines. I _knew _it," she practically whimpers.

The other woman joins her in crying, she cannot even respond. They sound like their hearts are breaking.

I am very, very confused.

Why is my mother getting a medal? Why are these two women crying? And what happened to my dad? What about the mines?

Suddenly, all these pieces snap together in my mind and I understand what exactly is going on. My suspicions are confirmed when my mother whispers, "he _can't_ be dead."

I feel like I can't breathe. It can't be true. He always comes home. He can't just abandon me now. I need him too much. My _mom_ needs him too much.

My father is dead.

He's not coming home.


	2. Chapter 2: Reminder

**Reminder**

I am thirteen years old still, and I will not let myself cry. I refuse. Crying is a sign of weakness, and I can't let anyone think of me as weak, especially not today.

There is a meeting today in the town center, a ceremony for the families of those who died in the explosion. It feels strange to me, that so many people are meeting to remember the people they may not have even known.

I don't want to be up here on stage where everyone can see my reaction. I don't want to be judged based on what I say or do, and I definitely don't want any of these people in the audience to judge my father based on how he died, yet I know that's what is going to happen. For some strange reason, the mayor feels like he needs to say a few words. Like it's his fault my father is dead. But I know better. I can't blame him. I can only blame the Capitol.

I don't want to hear whatever it is he has to say. All he will do is taint the memory of these people.

I am standing on the stage in the center of town with the rest of my family. My mother has her arms wrapped around herself like she's trying to hold herself together, trying her hardest not to cry. The baby still hasn't come, and I know that the fact that this child will never meet it's father is tearing my mother apart. She looks sad, to the point of depression. Rory looks confused. Vick looks like he still can't believe it. And I hope that anyone that looks at me will see that I look angry.

There are a few other families on the stage, but my eyes are only on one of them.

The lady that came to our house and told us my father was dead is on the stage, with two young daughters by her side. One of them has dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes, just like me. She is just a little bit younger than me, but the pain on her face is that of a far older person. She's struggling not to cry, but even looking at her, I can tell that she's not just sad, she's angry about this, just like me.

I decide that I like her.

She is holding the hand of her little sister, who's blonde and fair, just like her mother. I wonder what their father was like. He's probably dead, too.

I can't help it, but I feel like I have to place the blame on _someone_. And the Capitol is the easiest to blame. After all, it's very hard to believe that people in the Capitol ever die in explosions. My mom's told me about Heaven, and from what I've heard, the Capitol is the very picture of this paradise.

The mayor calls my family up to the center of the stage, and reads a carefully written speech. I'm not even listening, not really, anyway. He says something about how my father was a good citizen, and faithfully did his duty. That he was a hard worker and the accident was just _tragic_.

The man that the mayor is describing is not the man I remember at all. My father may have been a good citizen, sure, but that wasn't _who he was_. My father was a man who always told me that doing what I _knew_ was right was more important than doing what everyone else _thought_ was right. My father was a man who cared more about others than his own well-being. Who didn't care that he was pretty bad-off himself, but always gave away what he could to those less fortunate.

My father was the man who taught me how to whistle, how to read, how to hunt, how to swim. My father was my best friend.

I remember the time when I first learned how to set a snare. I had gotten so frustrated that it wouldn't spring right, and my father was the person who gently explained what I was doing wrong and then corrected it.

My father was the very image of the man I want to be.

The mayor drones on, and then presents me with a very plain, very simple medal. He explains the symbolism of it, and while the rest of the crowd listens in silence, my thoughts are far away, thinking about the man I know I will never see again.

Only the very last sentence of the mayor's speech will stick in my brain, and it is a line I will never, ever forget.

"May this medal serve as a reminder to your family of the man who we all loved. He will be missed."

_You didn't even know him,_ I think bitterly. And I don't need a 'reminder' to me that my father is dead. As if I could forget.


	3. Chapter 3: Determination

**Determination**

I'm fourteen years old, and today I'm going hunting.

It's always a little bit scary for me to go out and hunt, because I hate being by myself. It always freaks me out, like any sound I hear is a person coming to arrest me and then kill me for poaching. I know I'm too young to die, but I don't think that my age is going to stop the Peacekeepers.

It also doesn't help that I know there are other people out beyond the Meadow who hunt, too. All this does is make me even more worried. If I _do_ hear a person, how can I tell if they're good or bad? How would I know if I can trust them or not?

When my dad told me stories about his hunting days, he _never_ mentioned this aspect of life. I was never informed that every minute out here was a minute spent in utter fear for your life. I guess the truth is, I would never have imagined that I'd be out here on my own. My father was my hunting companion. I'd gone out beyond the fence with him before, and I was never afraid then. I think it was because I was with another person that I trusted. When I'm with someone else, everything becomes okay again. Like there are lots of things that could kill one person, but two people would be perfectly safe. Yes, I know that this idea is completely ridiculous, but it's what I am thinking. There is nothing I wouldn't give to have that level of trust again.

I know it's wishing too much for me to want my dad back, so I don't even let that thought cross my mind. All I want is a partner. And I'm not too picky who that is.

I spend a few hours setting up new traps in well-populated areas of the wood, and shooting my arrows at some rabbits. I don't hit anything though, and after a while of missing, I become upset and dejected. I'm not a very good shot, especially since I had to make my bow myself. It's not very spectacular. It tends to be off by about six inches, which is bad enough for a great hunter, but for someone like me, it hardly counts as a bow. I never catch anything with it.

My saving grace is my ability to set snares. My dad taught me all of his secrets, and I caught on pretty fast. It's a good thing too- if I was a slow learner, I'd probably be dead by now. My traps bring in the most amount of game.

I'm lucky today. Many of my traps have been sprung. Soon I have three rabbits hanging on my belt, and while I'm happy I caught _something_, I can't help but think that Vick and Posy are going to complain about all the rabbits.

I head over to my last two traps to see if they've caught anything.

_Please let it be something other than a rabbit.._ I plead silently. I'm not even sure who I'm pleading to. God, maybe.

I push aside some leaves, and am shocked into motionlessness. I've definitely caught something bigger than a rabbit.

Examining my carefully set snare is a girl, only about two years younger than me. Her hands are testing my carefully set wires, poking at the dead rabbit- ugh, rabbit _again_- that's hanging from the rope. She has a squirrel hung from her belt, and I notice that there's no blood on this. Either she found it already dead, or she took it from a snare. My snare?

She is looking closer at the rabbit now, and I can't decide what I should do. She looks too young to be a hunter, and if she's not a hunter she _must_ be a thief.

And I can't allow thieves near my traps.

"That's dangerous." I finally say, stepping out into the open.

She automatically lets go of my snare, and looks shocked, her eyes darting every direction, searching for an escape. Her eyes meet mine, then her gaze drops to the ground. I feel like I recognize her, like I've seen her around school, but I don't who she is.

"What's your name?" I try to keep my voice steady. Maybe she's not here to steal. It's not going to kill me to ask her what she's doing.

She murmurs an answer, so quiet I can hardly hear her.

Catnip? Poor girl. What mother would name her daughter after food for felines? I can already think of hundreds of jokes about her name.

"Well, Catnip, stealing's punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?" There is a grim sort of sarcasm in my voice, and yet I am perfectly serious.

She shakes her head. "Katniss." She corrects me. "And I wasn't stealing it. I just wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything."

Hm. So she isn't a thief? It's hard to believe. She's too young to be out here without a partner, and yet it's obvious she doesn't have one. I find myself looking at the squirrel again. If she didn't steal it, and her trap didn't catch it, how does she have it?

"So where'd you get the squirrel?" I demand.

"I shot it," she defends, slinging the bow from off her shoulder. I don't know how I missed that. Still, in order for Katniss to make a bloodless kill with an arrow, she'd had to have shot it through the eye, which is very, very difficult.

Then I notice the bow. It is made to perfection, exactly the sort of bow I need to actually hit something.

"Can I see that?" I ask her, my eyes fixed on the bow. It's what I was just wishing I had. I need to know where I can get a bow like this. Not even the Hob sells weapons. Food is all right, everyone needs more of that, even the Peacekeepers. But they would never tolerate people selling bows or knives. That would just be reason to rebel.

She doesn't even nod, just slips the bow off her arm and hands it to me. She slings my words back at me. "Just remember, stealing's punishable by death."

I look at her and can't decide if she's kidding or not. The emotion in how she responded would lead me to believe that she was serious, but I don't know. All I know is I am smiling. Katniss has completely caught me off guard, and if this is her sense of humor, I appreciate it.

She doesn't smile back at me. I don't mind though, I understand that she's scared out of her mind. I am too.

I look at the bow, running my fingers over it covetously. "This is really nice work," I say honestly. "Where did you get this?"

Her eyes still won't leave me and she's posed on the balls of her feet like she thinks I'm about to run away with her bow and she'll have to chase me down. I finally decide to just relax a little. We'll never get anywhere if we can't trust each other a little bit. "Look, Katniss, I'm not going to steal your bow. Obviously, I don't need it." I gesture at all the dead rabbits. "I can catch my own food, I don't need to con you out of yours." This doesn't sound rude coming from my mouth, but more like… painfully honest.

She nods. I guess she doesn't talk much.

"Really. Where _did_ you get this?"

"My father made it," she says quietly.

"Did he? You should tell him he did a good job. This is fantastic work." I am trying to reassure her that I'm not her enemy. Or more appropriately, as long as _she's_ not my enemy, I'm not _hers._

"Thanks, but I can't. He's dead."

I nod, pity and understanding in my eyes. "Mine too." I answer quietly. It really isn't that unusual of a situation. There are plenty of families out there missing one parent, or even both. At some point, we just have to learn how to take care of ourselves.

The surprise in her eyes is plain to me, and I think this is the moment when she first decides to start trusting me.

We talk about hunting for a little bit, finally agreeing that I will teach her a bit about my snares and what makes them work if she will help me with making a better bow.

I can't help thinking that I have finally found what I've been looking for for nearly half a year now. A partner.

The entire time we're talking, I find myself looking into her eyes, not even sure why.

The rest of her may not look like much, but in her eyes I see a fierce determination, a will to survive that's rare to find in anyone out here in District 12. I see a fighter, someone who refuses to let anyone else control her fate.

I see myself.


	4. Chapter 4: Promise

**Promise**

I'm sixteen years old, and today is going to be a good day, I can tell.

This is unusual, for me, because usually I'm pretty pessimistic. Honestly, what is there about life in District 12 that's good enough that it would turn me into an optimist? I have to hunt illegally just to provide for my family, the Hunger Games continue to happen every year, and the odds of me NOT getting reaped are getting increasingly smaller. If I don't die in the Games, I'm probably going to end up dying in the mines, just like my father did. Rory has just gotten over a very bad case of the measles, Posy and Vick are probably going to get it too, and my mother is wasting her life doing laundry.

Yeah, life for my family is just _amazing_.

But today will be a good day, because I'm spending all of it with Katniss. It's a Sunday, so we're going out hunting. Going out with her is the highlight of my week, and I wish that neither of us had school so we could just stay out in the woods all day.

Who cares if it's illegal? I figure most of the rules the government makes are stupid, anyway, and if it's a stupid law, why bother following it?

It's not like the Capitol particularly cares about what we do out here in District 12. In fact, some of the biggest law breakers are the Peacekeepers themselves.

Cray, for instance. He's perfectly aware of the Hob, and Greasy Sae's store, and all the people who hunt, but he doesn't do anything to stop it, which I'm perfectly fine with, because if he did, Katniss and I would be dead. Poaching is one of the worst crimes anyone out here can do, although no one can ever tell you _why_. Trust me, I've asked just about every Peacekeeper there is. None of them can give me a straight answer.

I finally just assumed that the Capitol just sees our District as a bunch of backwoods traitors to the government, so instead of actually doing the work to find the rebels, they've decided they'd rather see our whole District starve.

Trust me, if there's ever another rebellion, District 12 will be the next one to get destroyed. Not that there ever _would_ be another rebellion. There are too many cowards in Panem.

And yes, I realize that just about everything I think would be considered treasonous, so I don't ever say any of it.

Except to Katniss.

I would trust her with my life. In fact, by her being my partner, I _have_ trusted her with my life. It's so strange to me that she and I have become such good friends, especially with the rocky start we had. But now that she's opened up and will actually talk to me, I've found there's no one I trust more.

We are going to get a pretty good catch today. I've gotten good at setting traps, and Katniss is a _genius_ with a bow and arrow, so together we should bring in some pretty good game.

I crawl through the hole in the fence, not even worried about if the electricity is running. When it is, it makes a loud humming sound, and it's obvious that it's not safe. Right now, though, there's nothing to worry about. The woods are free from the sound of electricity, but they're not silent. Just about every animal that's out is making some sort of noise.

I grin a little. I was right, today is going to be a great day. It's not going to be hard to catch anything.

I jog down the path to Katniss's and my regular meeting spot, picking up my hidden tools on the way.

When I get there, she's leaning against a tree, smirking at me.

"Hey, Catnip," I say.

She just shakes her head.

"Gee, Gale, what took _you_ so long? I've been waiting here for _ages_."

I roll my eyes. "Are you still upset about that? I said I was sorry." Two weeks ago, when she didn't get to our meeting place until half an hour after we were supposed to meet, I got on her case about how she was always late. Ever since then, she's gone out of her way to be early, just so she can rub it in my face.

"Me, upset? Of course not," she says innocently, her grey eyes wide. "I'm just proving that it's _you_ who's not on time."

"You're right, naturally. I'm late. I'm the slow poke. You're perfect. Can't do anything wrong. Yup," I say dryly.

"Good, I'm glad to hear you say that." Her face breaks into a grin, and I can't help but feel a little satisfied. It took me so long to get her to even smile at me, and now she's comfortable teasing me. She's changed a lot since that day I found her messing with my snares. She's not a scared little girl anymore, and I love the person I've found.

"Well, Your Highness, I guess we should get going. After all, the animals aren't going to wait around to get killed." I say, offering my arm to her. She links hers through mine.

"It'd be nice if they did," she says regretfully.

"Unfortunately, we don't live in a perfect world."

"You can say that again." she fires back.

We walk together like that for a little bit, and it's… nice. I know she thinks of me as nothing more than a friend, and I don't really mind. I have years to get her to change her mind. Being just friends is more than enough for me.

My prediction turns out to be correct- today was a great day to go hunting. We catch more by lunchtime than we usually do in an entire day. I begin cooking a squirrel so we can eat it for lunch, and Katniss has brought some bread from the baker. I'll be honest- it's probably the best I've ever tasted. It's not the usual, burnt stuff that we normally end up with. This is light and fluffy, and I know that it will probably be the richest food I'll ever taste.

Mr. Mellark has a soft spot for Katniss, I'm sure of it. Or one of his children does. That's the only explanation for him giving her bread this wonderful. I shrug and decide to not worry about it. I just want to enjoy the bread.

"Mm, that smells _delicious_," Katniss announces.

"What, the bread, or the squirrel?" I ask.

She thinks about this for a moment. "Both!"

"No kidding. How'd you even get bread this good? What'd you have to do, sell your soul?" I tease.

"No, just a rabbit." She smiles and starts eating a piece of the bread. "Mr. Mellark paid way too much, though. It wasn't even a particularly _good_ rabbit." She shrugs, looking a little upset now. "I already owe them so much," she murmurs. "Or at least, I owe their son." That line is so quiet I decide it wasn't for me to hear. I ignore it. I think their son's name is Rye, or Wheat, or some other type of bread, just spelled funny. Pita? That's a bread, right?

I wonder what she feels she owes this boy, but it's none of my business, and it doesn't really concern me. This kid's no match for me. I'm her _best friend._ He's just the kid of some guy she sells meat to.

"Well, in any case, I hope the squirrel tastes as good as it smells. I slaved over it," I say, changing topics.

"Oh yeah, you sure did," she replies, rolling her eyes, coming back to her normal personality. "If you count putting it on a stick as 'slaving.'"

"Actually, I do. That's more than I usually do, so you should be grateful."

She retorts something, and we fall into our usual, simple banter. To anyone else, we'd sound like we're siblings. To be fair, we _look_ like we're siblings, too, but then again, almost everyone from the Seam does.

It's just another example of our government being messed up. People within a district are _kept_ in their own district. Communication is restricted in ways I didn't even think were possible, that I couldn't even hope to explain. All that I know about the other districts, I learned watching the Hunger Games.

"Doesn't it bug you?" I ask suddenly.

Katniss looks up, a confused expression on her face. "Doesn't what bug me?"

I bite my lip, not sure how to explain. Katniss frowns. "Come on Gale, just tell me what you're thinking."

"Fine," I sigh. "Don't you ever get annoyed that the government treats us like our lives matter less than theirs?"

I can tell she understands where I'm going with this, now, because she looks up at the trees, avoiding my gaze. I do this a lot. It's one of those things that she just has to get used to.

"Yes, Gale, we've gone over this. It annoys me just as much if not _more_ than it annoys you. We're all in the same boat now, anyway. But you're lucky. At least _your_ mom is competent." She sounds bitter, as she often does when she's talking about her mother. I can't honestly blame her.

Ever since her husband died in the same explosion that killed my dad, Katniss's mother hasn't been the same. Just like I am now the man of my house, Katniss has had to become the woman. Instead of losing only one parent in the explosion, it's like she's lost both of them.

But Katniss isn't going to stop me this time. I'm on a roll.

"Seriously, they make it so it's practically impossible for anyone outside the Capitol to live! Don't they realize that without us districts, their entire infrastructure would collapse? _We _do all the work so _they_ can live in luxury, meanwhile there are tons of people dying every day in our district from something as simple as starvation! It's not-"

"Fair?" Interrupts Katniss. "Of course it's not 'fair'. _Life's_ not fair! What ever would have given you that idea?" She sounds sarcastic.

I don't respond right away, but when I do, my voice is quiet and a little thoughtful. "Well, isn't that basically the message the Capitol is trying to spread?" I turn my voice into a falsetto. "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" I drop my tone back to its regular sound. "At every reaping, Effie Trinket goes on about how the drawing _is _perfectly fair, and everyone has equal odds. But life isn't about odds. It never has been. Life is about _surviving_. It's up to _you_ if you live or not. When Rory got sick, my mom didn't say 'whoops, the odds must be against us, it's time to give up!'" I shake my head. "No. She found _your_ mom to help her. She did everything she could to change what some people might have accepted as fate. Life's _not_ fair, and the Capitol is wrong to make it seem like it is."

Katniss looks a little upset. "The reaping is coming up soon." she says.

I nod. "The _odds_ aren't exactly going to help up this year." My voice is bitter. I know it is. I can't help it, ever since my dad died in a pointless explosion, I have hated the government. Sure, I got a medal, but how was that going to keep my family alive? My father could have done so much with his life, and instead it was wasted in the mines, which would have killed him eventually anyway. If not from an accident, from a disease. He was a brilliant, generous man, and all I have left of him was his ideal that people should help each other. It doesn't matter how, but they should. That is why not only do I hunt, but when I know of a family that's in trouble, or is starving, I bring them my meat so they'll have something to eat. I can't let them starve.

I can't let my District be killed by the Capitol.

"Do they ever?" Katniss asks wistfully.

"I need you to promise me something," I say abruptly, not even sure why I'm saying it.

"All right. What is it?"

"If your name ever gets drawn, if you ever become a Tribute, you have to promise me right now that you'll come home. I don't care how you do it, but you _will_ win the Games." My eyes are staring into hers. I'm not even sure why I'm making her promise me this, but I have a very bad feeling that one of these days, Katniss _will_ be drawn from the reaping bowl.

"I promise." She whispers. "But you- you have to promise me the same thing. You'll come home, too."

I don't know why, but I'm more worried for her than I am for myself. I nod anyway.

"I promise."


End file.
